


Sometimes

by Thaum



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 17:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13462908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thaum/pseuds/Thaum
Summary: Sometimes she forgets about all she doesn't want to remember.





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my first language. Life is still not a song. Be nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this one. It was supposed to be finished, but I had some thoughts about Sansa really regretting her last actions pestering me. I don't know, if she loves him in some twisted way, but I am sure, she needs him. If she'll realize that somewhen in season 8, I am satisfied.

Sometimes she finds herself in front of a door, her hand raised to knock. A question in her mind, a book in her hand, a letter to write or just looking for quiet company. Then she remembers. No one would answer her knock. Ever again. And she scolds herself for forgetting. The horrors, betrayals, lies and pain. But still. Sometimes forgetting is all she is left to want. Everything. First, the unbearable lost feeling, when she leans her head at the door and drops her hand to grasp the small piece of metal in her pocket.

And sometimes she cries.

 

Sometimes, she finds herself in front of a window, watching the snow fall in this endless winter, staring into nothing for hours. And she remembers everything she wanted. Then she scolds herself, for not forgetting. The game, ambition, heated arguments and how being alive felt like. If she could only forget. Sometimes, it is all she is left to want. First, the unbearable lost feeling, when she leans her head at the frame, knowing, that every day would be as empty and meaningless, as the day before.

And sometimes, she regrets everything.

 

Sometimes, she finds herself in a room full of people, gazing and pointing at her, whispering. Then she remembers again, who and where she is, what is expected of her. And she scolds herself for forgetting. Family, duty, honour, the pretense. But forgetting everything is all she is left to want. First, the unbearable lost feeling, when she understands, that she is utterly alone, even in the most crowded place.

And sometimes, they say, she talks to the dead, instead of the living.

 

Sometimes, she finds herself in front of a hot spring in the woods, her fingers like ice, frozen to the bone. When she submerges, feeling weightless, she remembers everything that is forever gone. And she scolds herself, for not forgetting. The summer, warmth, his smile, the taste of lemons and mint. Oh, forgetting, is all she is left to want. First, the unbearable lost feeling, when she leans her head at the stone, realizing, that the cold will never leave her again.

And sometimes, it is so tempting, to just let go.


End file.
